Just Young Enough To Still Believe
by Ashkiis
Summary: The years may have separated them, but they would always find their way back to each other. The Losers club surrounded him, and their resolute, gritty faces bolstered him. Bill finally found the strength to look towards the monster impersonating his friend.


**Notes:**

Let me start this off by saying I have not read the book. I plan to at some point but haven't gotten there yet. I also have not seen the original miniseries. So my knowledge of this fandom is coming strictly from the 2017 movie and what I have read online about the book. So I'm sure characterization is wrong, details are incorrect, yadda yadda. Yeah yeah, strike me down. Haha.

Anyway, I got the idea for this story at the point in the movie (spoilers! ;D ) when Pennywise has Bill in the headlock and is trying to get his friends to betray him. As some of my readers know, I love bad guys and their manipulations, and I was like… "Ooooh, this could be good if they were adults… So let's recreate the scene happening when they're older!" Ha. I do realize that the Losers duke it out with It as grownups. However, I'm sure this story differs from the canon battle. Just trying to make sure that's clear before we get started.

I don't particularly like that the Losers grow apart as they get older in the book (OR WHAT HAPPENS TO STAN AND EDDIE, LIKE HOW DARE YOU STEPHEN KING), but I kept that in here.

Good lord, sorry this note was so long. Anyway, as always, thank you for reading this short, quick thing, and I'm always open to comments/discussion and constructive critiques/reviews.

 **Just Young Enough To Still Believe**

"Just like old times, eh Billy Boy?"

The pressure at his throat didn't let up, yet he still managed to let out a guttural snarl. Bill continued to struggle against the iron grip, twisting his body in an effort to break the hold. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his knife glinting in the murky sewage water; teasing him, a possible salvation, but _just_ out of reach.

"Your fear is delicious."

A long sniff punctuated the taunt, and Bill shuddered when the clown's nose ran along the side of his face. He grit his teeth and wrenched at Pennywise's arm, digging his fingers in as hard as he could.

"I've waited for so long." A dramatic sigh. "So good of you to come home to me."

He knew the clown craved his reactions, was toying with him on purpose. Yet he couldn't stop the growl that rumbled deep in his chest. Despite himself though, sharp, caustic fear spiked through his heart when he took in the scene before him. The anger and bravado could only keep fear away for so long, after all.

Eddie lay bleeding on the dirty ground, eyes closed and face pale. At least his chest was visibly moving, meaning he was still clinging to life. Ben had been knocked unconscious, his body slumped against It's pile of trash and discarded belongings. Bev was still shrieking in terror, wrapped tightly in thick strands of hair, rope, twine, and ribbon. Her fear of restraints manifested itself in a terrifying display, suspending her above the battle in a perverse parody of a lifted angel. Richie and Mike were deep in battle with members of Henry's reanimated gang.

Bill's heart constricted with grief when he thought of Stanley. How could his friend have ended things the way he had? Stan should have come, should have stood with them and fought to the bitter end. Bill knew it wasn't fair to blame Stan, but he his mind couldn't help but think _If he'd been here, maybe we wouldn't be losing…_

How had It gotten so strong? They had beaten the clown as children. The creature's defeat had caused it to disappear deeper into the sewers, not allowing it to feed as much as it had desired. How had It regained his powers so thoroughly? Why was he so powerful? Despair threatened to clog his mind, and he fought against it, striving for clear thoughts. But how, when it all seemed so pointless? How had they beaten It when they were just kids? It was decimating them so easily, and they were _adults_ now. What had they done wrong?

A gloved hand slithered along his side in a mockery of intimacy. "You forgot about me, Billy." Warm break tickled his ear as Pennywise leaned down. But Bill was far too distracted to be alarmed by the proximity. Instead he was panicking with the thought that the clown was reading his mind. "You grew up, and you forgot." The fetid stench of victory in his enemy's words made him want to puke.

He knew the next words out of his nemesis' mouth would be especially cruel by the way It tightened his grip. "Georgie never forgot about me. He's been floating down here the whole-"

A scream of rage ripped out his mouth and he thrashed, his efforts increasing as Pennywise's maniacal laughter amplified at his straining.

There was a shift, a rippling of change as Pennywise switched forms. No longer was the silky clown suit pressed against him. Confusion and alarm bells filled his mind, and Bill tried not to look when the headlock was lifted. He really, really didn't want to see the shape It had adopted. But he did, turning around slowly while rubbing his bruised throat.

"Why did you leave me Bill?"

A gasp of pain escaped. Georgie stood before him, clad in a yellow raincoat and boots. The exact way that he'd looked the last time he'd seen him. Bill tried to remember this was just one of It's tricks. It had done the same thing oh so many years ago – taunted him with a vision of his baby brother. His childhood trauma had faded as he aged, but now it felt as fresh as if he were thirteen again. Traitorous tears spilled down his cheeks. Wiping at his eyes with a furious swipe, Bill stood up and glared at the vison of his brother.

"Fuck. You," he ground out. "You're _not_ Georgie."

His brother's image smirked, a look that Bill had never seen on the real Georgie's face. It was an unnatural expression, and further bolstered his knowledge that the boy standing in front of him was in fact not his brother.

"Is this better?"

Bill blinked, and Georgie was gone. The clown wasn't back, however. Instead, It was now in Bev's form. The image of his friend bit her lip and took a step towards him. "I've missed you, Billy," she purred.

He was transfixed as Bev approached him. Deep in his mind his inner self screamed _No! That's It! It's fucking It!_ But he couldn't get himself to move. Bev's shirt was too big – a pale shoulder was exposed, freckled skin tantalizingly smooth in appearance. The image flickered, and suddenly Bev was young. "I've missed you so much," she breathed. Bill felt a jolt, remembered their shared kiss as pre-teens, a long ago memory that had been buried deep. A mischievous smile curled the girl's lips before It's form rippled and it was adult Bev once more.

It was enough to shock his system. The image wasn't real. It wasn't really Bev. His eyes flicked down towards the grimy cement at his feet. Bev's scrutiny shifted as well, honing in on the knife. Their gazes lifted, and Bev's feral grin was the only warning he had before she lunged towards the weapon.

Bill surged forward. He had the advantage of proximity. But It was unnaturally fast. And even in Bev's form he was _strong._ Bill's hand clasped around the knife handle, but It latched onto his wrist, the grip surpassing what the real Bev was capable of.

He cried out in anguish, could feel his bones grinding from the hold It had on him. His hand spasmed and dropped the knife. The weapon would have fallen back into the stagnant water if Bev's unoccupied hand hadn't caught it early on into its descent.

Cold horror breached his mind, washing along his insides like furious waves. Bill struggled, attempting to pull free before the knife could be used against him. All the while, Bev's form hung onto him, easily keeping hold without any apparent effort. She smiled at him, and the look was so cruel Bill couldn't believe the expression could even be made on Bev's sweet face. "You're gonna have to try harder than that," she mocked, digging her fingers in even further.

Bill hissed at the pain but refused to cry out again. Didn't want to give the monster the satisfaction. Glaring, he grit his teeth and twisted. His knee came up, connecting with Bev's stomach with as much strength as he could muster. A huff of air escaped at the force of the blow, but she didn't double over. Instead, It hissed in rage and threw him down in its fit of anger.

Bill collided with the unforgiving cement, sputtering at the putrid water that splashed against his face. He rolled quickly, just narrowly missing Bev's kick at his head. She cackled, and the madness that danced in her eyes was anything but human. He didn't miss the knife in her hand, saw the way she was wielding it, ready to strike. Bill fought to stand, scrambling over himself in an effort to rise. He needed to get up, gain some ground. Reevaluate and then forge ahead with a new plan.

The creature had no interest in allowing him the luxury of getting his bearings, however. Bev's doppelganger prowled towards him and he pulled himself backwards, clambering ineffectively. She was on him the next instant, crouching over his fallen body. He cried out as she slashed at him with the knife. His right forearm bore the brunt of the attack, and Bill could feel cuts ripping through his skin. Scarlet rivers streamed down his arm. And yet, Bill could tell that Bev was holding back. Even though the lacerations burned in anguish, none of the wounds were deep. They were superficial, meant to cause pain and little more.

He flailed, attempting to topple her. Amusement curled her lip in a harsh smirk, as she plopped down, crushing the breath out of his lungs. She settled on top of his chest, her full weight pressing down on him. Bill continued to fight, attempting to roll and dislodge his attacker.

"Stop," It hissed after a few moments, glee now gone when he didn't give up despite the situation. When he still didn't quit, she shoved the blade up against his throat in a clear warning.

His chest heaved and his eyes bulged, but he quit wrestling away, stilling despite himself. Bev smiled with pleasure at his obedience. The knife danced along the delicate skin of his neck, pricking in several spots, but never going deeper than a mere graze. _It's toying with me_ , he thought, fury and humiliation bubbling beneath the surface.

"Don't pout," Bev said when she took in his expression. A wicked grin lit up her face as her free hand found a breast. She squeezed and moaned, rocking her hips. "Haven't you always wanted me on top of you?" she asked, biting her lip in a sensual manner.

Bill wasn't sure which had outraged him more: the monster taking Georgie's form or making his friend act like a wanton whore. He thrashed, shouting obscenities at the shapeshifter. All the while Bev clung to him, her thighs tightening around his chest in order to stay where she was.

When he finally stopped, his lungs burned with exertion. A painful headache was blooming behind his eyes. He felt like his skin was on fire, burning with wrath. All the while It smiled, taking joy in his turmoil. A soft hand moved toward him, pushing bangs back in a façade of tenderness. Bev licked her lips and moved down. Bill didn't dare to move now. The knife was poised in the hand that wasn't cradling his face. The point of the weapon was poking at his throat once more. If he moved it would slice his neck.

Smooth lips met his. The kiss was gentle, soft. A parody of the creature that was giving it. Bill groaned in disgust, but he didn't move, aware of the danger that was so very close. He thought he heard Richie screaming his name, but he didn't dare look towards his friend.

Bev's form pulled back, a frown pulling down the corners of her mouth. "What, don't you like it?" she asked. Her gaze flicked towards where Richie was yelling, and yes, it was clear now. Either Richie was in trouble, shouting for Bill in desperation, or he could see what was happening and was anxious to help. Bill chanced moving his head in the direction of the trashmouth, but Bev's steel grip fastened against his chin, forcing him to look back at her.

"If this doesn't keep your attention, what will?" she asked. They shared a sizzling gaze. Bev's cruel and delighted, Bill's full of hate and a promise of retribution. Before he could give a scathing retort, the image was fading, shimmering, and suddenly It's eyes were hidden behind dark rimmed glasses.

Richie was now on top of him, in adult form. But the glasses from childhood remained. It was a staggering dichotomy that sent Bill reeling. A bittersweet nostalgia filled him, burning his insides. "How about now, Denbrough?" his friend asked, spreading his arms in a "huh, huh?" gesture. It was so obnoxious, something Richie would have actually done. How did the monster know them so well?

The real Richie began to bellow in earnest. "You fucking mother fucker!" And yet his voice was too far away. Bill knew Richie wouldn't be able to get to him in time. He was on his own.

The creature glanced over at Bill's earsplitting friend, a wide smile stretching his lips. Oh, what he wouldn't give to wipe the enjoyment from the fucker's face. The image of his friend turned back to him, tapping the knife against mock Richie's face in a pondering gesture. An obnoxious 'hmmmmm' buzzed between It's lips. Bill knew the monster was baiting him, daring him to fight. The knife may have been further away now, but Bill knew the creature was poised to strike if he tried to resist.

Just as suddenly as the insane joy had been on Richie's face, it was just as quickly gone when he took in Bill's glare. "This doesn't work either," Richie sighed, his lips turning down in a moping expression. "I want your fear, not your anger," he admitted, dipping the knife down again. It cut a thin line on Bill's face.

Richie leaned down, a conspiratorial smirk on his face. "The loudmouth likes the fragile one." Bill felt his eyebrows arch in confusion. What in the world was It going on about? He couldn't quite wrap his mind around what the monster was sharing with him before the image of his friend licked along the wound, lapping up the blood that had welled there. A shudder of revulsion shook Bill's body. "Just think of his fear when I devour Eddie…" Lick. "Piece…" Lick. "By…" Lick. "Piece."

Bill trembled with scathing ire. He forgot to use his head and stay cool. He lunged at the imposter, pummeling Richie's chest with all his strength. Of course It was stronger. Of course. Because things just couldn't be easy, could they? The creature wrestled him back down, pinning him to the filthy floor with a hoot of glee. "Naughty Billy," he growled, but the infuriating leer was at odds with his tone.

Before he could react further, the knife was shoved through the palm of his left hand. He didn't make a sound at first. It was like his brain wasn't able to keep up with the events. Instead he stared dumbly at the weapon lodged in his hand, gazing at the wound with a stupidly astonished expression. When the pain hit, it sent him reeling. He howled from the agony, kicking and bucking in his frenzy. All the while It laughed, clapping his hands together like a happy child.

When he finally calmed, he lay back, his gaze spinning from his exhaustion. His eyes closed, trying to block out the assault on his mind. His brain throbbed from the headache, his hand pulsed with suffering, he couldn't breathe. And yet he wasn't afraid. When he looked back up, he sneered at the monster, a manic look in his eyes. "You're gonna have to try harder than that," he mocked, repeating what It had said to him just a few minutes ago.

Fake Richie looked surprised. Then angry. Both hands surged forward, latching onto Bill's throat. They began to squeeze. _Really? This is how it's going to end?_ He couldn't believe it. He pried at Richie's rigid fingers, trying to dislodge him. But his vision was dimming. His thrashing was doing no good.

A rush of real fear hit him. He was never going to see Audra again. His friends were going to perish. It was going to win. Georgie had died for nothing.

And then the hands were lifted, allowing him to breathe again. He took desperate gasps of air, and didn't even notice that the image of Richie was close to his face, sniffing deeply, inhaling his raw, despairing panic. When he finally regained a modicum of focus, he pushed at Richie's chest with a groan, not wanting the monster so close to him. But It remained in proximity, alternating between sniffing and licking him with pleasured grunts.

"S-s-stop," he pleaded. Despair filled him when the stutter came out. He felt weaker than he ever had. Where was his childhood bravery? Bill whimpered in disgust as mock Richie licked along the wound on his cheek, a long stripe that sopped up the blood that had gathered there. He pushed even harder at the creature in an effort to get him away. But he felt feeble and drained, unable to resist any longer. It would be so much easier to lie there, let It finish him off…

"Bill! Bill! You piece of shit!" The real Richie was screaming again, closer now. "Get up and fight, you cocksucker!"

Then there was Mike, his voice echoing Richie's sentiments. "Bill, come on!" He sounded strained, and Bill imagined him tangled up with Henry Bowers, in a frantic fight to the death.

"I c-c-can't," he whispered, eyes closing in defeat. His friends were so strong. So brave. They meant more to him than life itself. They deserved to live. He could give himself away to It. Maybe his sacrifice would give them time to take the creature on as it fed. He would see Georgie again. And Stan.

A small, tired voice reached his ears next. "Georgie wouldn't want this."

He turned his head, saw Eddie sitting up, clutching at his bleeding arm. His friend was so pale, looked like death incarnate. But his jaw was clenched and his eyes were drawn in a fierce, determined scowl. "Stan wouldn't want this," he added, a poignant smile curling his lips.

His friend had always been sensitive, knew their innermost thoughts even when they didn't speak them aloud. For all his timidness, weakness, and fragility, Eddie was one of the strongest people he'd ever met. Bill felt tears filling his eyes, and suddenly his fear was evaporated. The love for and _from_ his dearest friends gave him strength.

Above him, Richie snarled as Bill began to struggle once more. They tussled, and without thinking on it too much, Bill wrenched the knife from his hand. It hurt more than it had going in, but he fought through the pain and began to slash at the monster. His screams of rage echoed around the sewer, bouncing off and trailing down each desolate tunnel.

Richie's face was soon crisscrossed with deep slashes, and the image retreated with a hiss of fury. Before the monster could get its bearings Bill was there, following It with wide swipes and deep lunges. Blood flowed from his left hand, dripping down to the floor in angry rivulets, but he didn't even notice. He kept slashing, driving the creature further back.

They reached the circular pool that It had receded in so many years ago. By that point Richie's face was so cut that it didn't even resemble his friend any longer. The glasses had been knocked away, further destroying the illusion. The creature looked towards the pool with apprehension, and Bill felt a rush of bravery at the sight. "You're not going to starve this time," he said, and he was pleased that the stutter was gone. It growled at him, sensing danger. "I'm going to fucking kill you," he explained. The blood made the blade's handle slippery, but Bill gripped it tighter in a determined grip. He wouldn't fail.

The creature snarled, hunkering closer to the pool's edge. Its gaze flicked about for several seconds, and Bill stood still, sizing it up. Just as he made a move to approach, to finish it, the monster howled. The noise reverberated throughout the room, and it caused Bill to stumble, so loud was the sound. When he regained his footing and looked toward where It had been, he saw that the shapeshifter had morphed again.

It's fear and pain from the knife cuts must have affected its ability to produce a hyper-realistic image. But there was no doubt about who It was trying to impersonate. An adult Stan stood by the pool, hand holding the cement in an iron clasp. Bill felt rooted to the spot. It had been years since he'd seen his friend, and all of his regrets and anguish numbed his mind at the sight of him.

"It's so dark down there." His friend stared down into the water that cascaded down the hole, apparently transfixed by the sight. Bill followed its gaze. "Cold. Lonely." Curly hair lightly bounced as Stan turned his head, fixing Bill with his haunting stare. "You won't send me down there, will you Bill?"

The image wasn't as crisp as Georgie, Richie, or Bev had been. It was comically smudged, a mixture of adult and young Stan that didn't mesh well together. And yet, ironically, it was affecting Bill the most. His heart felt sick at the image. Stan looked so sad, so lost, so alone. It was like the monster had visited him in his final moments of life and was recreating the image.

He never got to tell Stan goodbye. Why had they grown apart? The Losers were supposed to be together forever, no matter what. Why had Stan left them? The tears that had fallen when the image of Georgie had stood in front of him were back. They trickled down his face, stinging when they reached the cut on his cheek. His anger was gone, replaced by the exhaustion that had haunted him all his life. Bill just wanted this to be over.

"I'm sorry, Stan," he whispered, even though he knew it wasn't really his friend that was standing there. "I'm really sorry." He sniffed, shaking, but couldn't take the step forward he knew that he needed to.

A warm hand clasped his shoulder, and he gasped in surprise. Turning, he saw Richie there, covered in blood and sewage. Richie's other hand was wrapped around Eddie, supporting his weakened friend by holding him up. Mike was stepping closer, clutching a warped piece of metal in his hands. He too was covered in muck, blood oozing from several wounds. His smile was missing a tooth, but the hope that shown in his eyes wasn't dimmed. Ben was also there, a gash on his head crusting with blood. Bev was no longer screaming from above, and when Bill looked up he didn't find her there. Instead she came up on his other side, her soft hand gripping his shoulder in a tight squeeze.

Bev's tender hand slid down his arm, clasping his left hand in the gentlest hold he'd ever experienced. She cradled his wounded palm in her own, squeezing as softly as she could. They gazed at one another, indulgent smiles exchanged before both of them turned to grin at the Losers.

He took a moment to take it in, to soak in the love and support. The years may have separated them, but they would always find their way back to each other. The Losers club surrounded him, and their resolute, gritty faces bolstered him. Bill finally found the strength to look towards the monster impersonating his friend. He gazed at the seventh member of the club, wishing it was the real thing.

The image of Stan was seething, yet there was obvious fear in his gaze. "I'm sorry Stan," he repeated, speaking to the monster as if it were really his friend. Bill figured the real Stan, wherever he was, would understand what he was trying to say.

He glanced back at the Losers one last time. His friends, his _family_. They nodded at him, all of the same mind. "You're not Stan," Bill said when he turned back, reinforcing himself. "And you're not Georgie." His gaze hardened, the hatred for the creature sending a jolt of abhorrence through his heart. It made his grip on the knife tighten. "You're not Richie, or Bev." He began to shake with the strength of his hatred. "You're nothing," he spat, and his voice betrayed all the loathing and heartache that the monster had ever brought him.

Stan's image faded away slowly, until it was the clown again. Pennywise shrieked at them, a maniacal mix of laughter and scream. The clown's mouth opened, sharp teeth extending. One last desperate bid to draw on their fear. But just as when they were children, their fear for the creature was gone, no matter how strong It had grown.

Bill was the first to move. He led the way, rushing forward with a shout, knife extended and hacking. Pennywise rose up to his full height, snarling like a rabid animal as he met the charge. Behind him, he heard the other Losers, yelling and roaring, a clamoring battle cry that lent him strength.

This was it.

They were going to end this.

Once and for all.

 **Notes:**

I dunno how I feel about the ending. I wanted to keep it ambiguous in a way, since I've never tried that before. Like does Eddie die? Do they defeat It? Who knows. Ha. Knowing me and how I tend to gravitate towards happy endings, I'd say Eddie lives (and he and Richie get together, yay!) and they defeat the clown once and for all. But you can interpret it however you please. ;D

Originally I was gonna put some Bill/Pennywise in there as a way for Pennywise to try and make Bill fear him again. But it just didn't flow with how the story was going. Another time perhaps.

Anyyyyyway. I feel like Bill doesn't get enough love in the fandom. Hence a story featuring mainly him and It duking it out. Maybe someday I'll delve into a story with the rest of the gang.

Sidenote! For those of you that ship Eddie and Richie, like yours truly, I just about cried when I read this on ( wiki/Richie_Tozier ) about the final scene in the book: "In the sewers, Eddie loses his arm and dies. Richie has the most difficult time dealing with Eddie's death since they were so close. Richie is the last person Eddie talks to before dying, stroking Richie's face with his hand and telling him, for the last time, not to call him "Eds" as he always had. At first, Richie refuses to leave his body in the sewers, insisting it was too dark and Eddie would not want to stay down there. After he is forced to leave Eddie's body, he kisses Eddie on the cheek before leaving."

THE SHIP SAILS ITSELF


End file.
